


hearts have never been this close

by guitarstrings



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, These two being soft girlfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 00:39:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15327918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guitarstrings/pseuds/guitarstrings
Summary: Veronica’s bed is big – a queen-size to be exact, but they always end up lying close to each other, anyway. Not that Betty’s complaining, because she loves being near Veronica and soaking in her never-ending affection.Or, Betty and Veronica just wanting to be near each other.





	hearts have never been this close

**Author's Note:**

> So I maybe, kinda, badly needed to write these two just being soft girlfriends, and voila! Here it is! 
> 
> It's all thanks to this beautiful, beautiful song called "Maybe The Night" by Ben&Ben, from which the title of this fic has also been taken. The lyrics are just so spot-on with our lovely girls that I couldn't resist. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Also, please feel free to hit me up at coolguitarplayer.tumblr.com :)

It’s another quiet night in Riverdale, though for Betty, it’s far different from before. Where she once used to spend time alone in her room, she barely ever is these days.

Most nights, she and Veronica lie close to each other as they can possibly be, and Betty is content to allow Veronica’s fingers to roam around aimlessly, often lingering on her collarbone with a light press every now and then.

Then Veronica stops to stroke her jaw, lips curling up into a soft smile as she rests her head on Betty’s chest, raven hair spilling across her shirt. Her perfume clings to Betty’s clothes, fragrant and expensive and very _Veronica._ It’s all Betty can smell, and _this_ is all she can think about - Veronica snuggled up comfortably against her, content to just bask in the silence.

Veronica gives Betty a few more moments to herself, then tugs gently on her sleeve to get her attention.

“Hey, you,” Veronica taps on Betty’s chest, matching the rhythm of her heartbeat.

Betty chuckles, a soft, quiet sound, and gazes down at Veronica. She’s wearing one of Betty’s sleepshirts, the collar sliding past her shoulder and exposing part of her skin.

Veronica’s bed is big – a queen-size to be exact, but they always end up lying close to each other, anyway. Not that Betty’s complaining, because she loves being near Veronica and soaking in her never-ending affection.

“Hey back,” Betty smiles, acutely aware of Veronica’s hand still resting against her arm.

In response, Veronica smiles and moves to straddle her in one swift motion, sliding her hands up to her Betty’s chest. The pressure is light, the spark in Veronica’s dark eyes one of fondness and nothing more than the need to simply touch Betty.

It’s the kind that has Betty thinking of the fairy tales she and Polly used to read at night, shining a flashlight at the words underneath the covers of their bed. The ones where the prince slays dragons in order to save the princess and the kingdom.

Though in Betty’s case, the dragons she had to fight off in order to get to this point with Veronica were her nerves. And by that, Betty means _a lot_ of nerves.

Nerves that, if all put together would definitely be as huge - if not bigger - than a living, breathing dragon.

(It’s definitely Veronica who slayed it though, when she said yes to go out on a _date_ date with her.)

“Diamond for your thoughts?” Veronica grins, tilting her head to the side.

At that, Betty releases a breath and chuckles, splaying her fingers around Veronica’s legs. Most days, she can’t believe Veronica is here. With _her._

That she and Veronica are together, in every sense of the word. That Veronica wants her, despite the glamorous life and all the high-profile people she’s met – celebrities included.

Betty sucks in a breath, averting her gaze from Veronica’s to stare up at the ceiling. “Is there…” she trails off, fingers twitching against the smooth skin of Veronica’s legs. “What do you miss about New York?”

Veronica twists the hem of Betty’s shirt, expression thoughtful as she bites her lip.

“Honestly?” Veronica asks, voice growing soft as she runs her thumb across Betty’s cheek. “I haven’t been thinking about that lately. And ever since this,“ she takes Betty’s hand and laces their fingers together, smile still as radiant as ever even in the darkness of the bedroom, “started, there hasn’t been anything or _anyone_ there worth missing or coming back to.”

And it’s crazy, or at least it _should_ be, because there isn’t the slightest hesitation as Veronica says it. Crazy because Veronica means it, honest-to-goodness _means_ it.

Then it hits Betty. Because in a way, she can relate to Veronica.

Where she once constantly yearned to feel the sand between her toes and the waves crashing beneath her feet, Betty finds that all those feelings have begun to melt away the moment Veronica started to ease her way into her life.

And now, Veronica is her constant – always there, always close, always here.

Always here to stay.

“I’m happy here,” Veronica breathes out, and Betty doesn’t have to ask where _here_ is.

She already knows when Veronica melts back into her arms, the weight of her head on Betty’s chest grounding and familiar.

She’s happy here, too.

* * *

 

Veronica loves to dance. Sometimes by herself, and sometimes with the Pussycats or with the Vixens for a performance.

But mostly, with Betty. It’s even become a common occurrence for them to randomly start slow dancing when they’re alone together. Veronica isn’t picky about the place, either. Whether it’s in the kitchen or the living room or by the fireplace, they dance.

If Betty’s being honest, she’s not much for dancing. It’s not that she doesn’t like it, but the opportunity rarely ever presents itself what with her being more into sports.

Dancing with Veronica, on the other hand – now that’s a different story.

Tonight, it’s by the fireplace at the Pembrooke. The flames glow a bright orange, illuminating the living room and casting their shadows against the walls. They sway together slowly, almost lazily, and Veronica’s head is on her shoulder, fingers idly roaming Betty’s back.

Briefly, Betty imagines Veronica at the Met Gala, wearing a long gown that trails across the ground as she glides gracefully along the red carpet. Charming everyone present with a blinding smile and a well-timed wink. Dancing with Hollywood stars and popular musicians alike.

The very same Veronica that’s in her arms right now, content to just sway mindlessly without what seems to be a care in the world.

Content to dance with her.

Veronica pulls back slightly, and Betty is half-expecting a witty remark, half-expecting her to ask what’s on her mind like she often does. She does none of those things, however, and says something else instead. “When we have another school dance, I’m not dancing with anyone else.”

There’s a grin on Veronica’s face as she says it, and Betty lets out a laugh.

“You’re being silly, Ronnie.”

“No, I’m not,” Veronica huffs, circling her arms around Betty’s neck. “I just don’t think there’s anyone else worth dancing with. Especially not with any of those guys from the football team,” she adds, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

“Archie is part of the team,” Betty points out.

“Yeah, but I’m not dating him,” Veronica shrugs, toying with the hairs on the back of Betty’s neck. “I’m dating _you_. And besides, Archie can’t dance to save a life – not even his own.”

Well, Veronica’s not wrong. Archie pretty much has two left feet and he _does_ step all over the feet of every girl.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want him stepping on your feet for a whole song,” Betty admits, scrunching her nose at the thought.

“There you have it. Heck, we could even skip going altogether,” Veronica murmurs, pulling Betty’s collar to the side, exposing her collarbone. “You put everyone else to shame, Betty Cooper,” she smiles, face inching closer to Betty’s. “So why would I want to be in anyone else’s arms, even if it is just for a few minutes or even one second?”

Betty doesn’t get the chance to answer, because Veronica has already closed the gap and is kissing her softly. Not that she would’ve been able to say something, anyway, because just what _do_ you say after someone tells you something as heartfelt and earnest as that?

Somewhere in between the kiss, however, Betty may have quietly let it slip that she doesn’t want to hold anybody else near, either.

And Veronica?

Veronica just smiles and kisses her again. 

* * *

 

If Betty wasn’t athletic and didn’t have a good sense of balance and coordination, she would surely be regretting letting Veronica’s love for romance rub off on her. But hey, all’s fair in love and war, right?

So despite being welcome to use the front door to the Lodge’s apartment, Betty decided she’d climb the tree leading up to Veronica’s bedroom one particular night. Because Veronica is a sucker for romance, and Betty-

Well Betty is a sucker for Veronica’s giddy smile.

(Kevin and Toni would say it’s cute. Cheryl would say it’s childish and pathetic, though with a slight smile to show that she doesn’t mean it.)

She hefts herself up on the last branch, and with little to no effort, drops down on Veronica’s balcony with a small thud. Which, okay, was _probably_ a little louder than expected, because when Betty looks into the window, she catches Veronica staring out the glass door, eyes wide in surprise.

With a sheepish smile, Betty waves at Veronica, her other hand shoved in her pocket.

“Uh, surprise?” Betty says by way of greeting as Veronica opens the door.

Veronica stares at her, then at the tree, then back at her. “Betty, did you-“

“-climb up the tree?” Betty finishes with a nod. “Yeah.”

If it were her, and Veronica had been the one to climb up a tree to her bedroom, Betty would be bombarding her with questions, starting off with _why._ But again, this is Veronica.

Veronica, who loves dancing out in the rain, singing at the top of her lungs, and randomly shoving onion rings into Betty’s mouth just for the heck of it.

Veronica, who describes people and their relationships with flowers-

“Crap,” Betty curses under her breath, because how could she forget the bouquet of flowers that are in her _car?_

Veronica fixes her with a curious expression. “B?”

“Your flowers,” Betty groans, craning her neck to look up at the ceiling. “I got some for you, and I left them in the car.”

It doesn’t take long before Veronica bursts into laughter, and Betty blushes out of embarrassment.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Veronica bites back another bout of giggles and touches Betty’s shoulder, but to comfort her or to stabilize herself, Betty doesn’t know. “You were supposed to carry the flowers while climbing up the tree? But then you forgot them in your car?”

Betty’s ears start to go pink, and she shuffles her feet against the tiles. “I… did.”

“Oh, Betty,” Veronica smiles, a soft curl of the lips, affectionately raking her fingernails against the back of Betty’s neck. “I guess fate did it again, huh? Making you climb up a tree and everything so it could throw us together once more,” she purrs, a happy glint in her eyes as she runs a finger down Betty’s chest.

And it’s that look - that shimmer in Veronica’s eyes and the glow in her face that makes Betty want to jump into rivers, look at the stars, and let Veronica pull her onto her feet to do a silly dance or sing songs that they made up off of the top of their heads.

So when Veronica presses a hand to her cheek, her touch soft and loving and _home_ , how could Betty disagree?

How could she not let fate keep pulling her back to Veronica?

* * *

 

“You know what would be tragic?” Veronica asks her one night, as they’re perched on Betty’s roof and staring up into the star-littered sky.

Betty tears her gaze away from the stars to look at Veronica, their hands grazing as they smile at each other. “What would be tragic?”

Veronica rests her head on Betty’s shoulder, releasing a quiet sigh.

“If we never met,” she whispers, after a few beats. Then, she lifts her head and gently tilts Betty’s chin so they’re facing each other. “If I moved somewhere else.” She cups Betty’s face and touches their foreheads together. “If I didn’t get to touch you like this.” Then, she takes Betty’s arms and wraps them around her waist, burrowing her face into her chest as she breathes deeply. “If the universe decided to be stupid and let fate be even stupider if they decided not to bring us together.”

There’s a frustrated huff as Veronica says the last part, and Betty can’t help but laugh a little at that. Because really, only Veronica can be annoyed at the thought of things like fate being stupid.

“Yeah,” Betty agrees without a second thought, as she kisses Veronica’s forehead. “That would definitely be stupid.” Veronica laughs, too, and Betty grins and adds, “But you know what else would be tragic?”

Veronica tilts her head curiously. “What?”

“If Pop’s closed down,” Betty says, mocking seriousness, and Veronica rolls her eyes and slaps her arm.

“You and your love for milkshakes,” Veronica huffs, and Betty clutches a hand to her chest, feigning offense. She then backtracks, “I mean, yes, of course, that’s a given because I can’t imagine _not_ being able to share a milkshake with you. _But,_ ” she smirks, presses her lips against the corner of Betty’s mouth. “I bet my lips taste sweeter than your strawberry milkshake…”

Betty inhales sharply, dumfounded and left unable to form a smart response. Veronica hops down and climbs back inside through the window, tossing her hair back as Betty watches her retreating form.

“Well?” Veronica asks expectantly, licking her lips as if to taunt Betty.

And Betty falls for it, hook, line, and sinker.

(And yes, Veronica’s lips taste far sweeter than any milkshake out there in the world. It’s a question that doesn’t even need to be asked in the first place.) 

* * *

 

Somewhere in the distance, lightning flashes, briefly bathing the living room of the Lodge’s cabin in light before darkness surrounds them once again. But the pouring rain beating down on the windows is the furthest thing on Betty’s mind, her sole focus on the light pressure of Veronica’s hand pressed against her bare chest and her dark eyes gazing up at her.

They’re alone as they can be, having the cabin – and the weekend – all to themselves. Their phones are turned off as per Veronica’s request.

(“Because I want to be selfish. Because I want it to be just you and me for the few days we’re here,” Veronica murmurs, her gaze never straying from Betty’s even as she starts to unbutton her shirt.)

Betty, of course, agreed immediately.

So now they’re here, lying on the rug by the fire, legs tangled together as they trade lazy kisses.

The sheets do a poor job of covering Veronica’s skin, and, as usual, she doesn’t bother to fix it. The roaring fire in the hearth gives Veronica’s skin an ethereal glow, and Betty, swallowing hard, reaches out to touch her cheek.

But Veronica burns brighter, her touch like gentle flames and her smile warmer and more comforting in the cold.

Sometimes, Betty still can’t believe she gets to be with Veronica this way. Can’t believe that she gets to touch every inch of Veronica, gets to feel the shudders racking her frame as she comes undone beneath Betty.

“I like being with you like this,” Veronica murmurs, sighing into Betty’s neck.

Betty shifts onto her side, her legs brushing against Veronica’s under the sheets. “Yeah?”

“Mmm,” Veronica hums lazily, nestling further into Betty. “I’ve never felt anything like this before. Every time I’m…” she pauses, thoughtful, and absentmindedly taps at Betty’s arm. “Every time I’m with you like this, it just- it feels _amazing._ And I don’t mean just our physical connection, but the emotional side, too.”

Betty inhales sharply, not quite daring to believe her ears. They’ve been together like this a number of times in the past, but it’s the first Veronica has gone into detail with regards to her personal feelings.  

“Ronnie…”

“And us being here right now, I meant it when I said I wanted it to be between you _and_ me,” Veronica continues, chewing on her bottom lip as she strokes Betty’s arm. “I guess I just…” she sighs, shrugging one shoulder uncertainly. “We haven’t talked about it in a while, and I want to know how you feel when you think about me being in New York before.”

For a brief second, Betty freezes, breath catching in her throat. Part of her wants to lie, to tell Veronica that there’s nothing _to_ feel about it. That there’s nothing to think about, and that she doesn’t.

But the thing is, there _is_ something to feel, and that she does think about it. Thinks of how huge Veronica’s world was, of how happy she must have been by being able to go to places Betty has only ever dreamt of seeing.

And yet, Veronica is happy, _content,_ even, to be with her. There isn’t a trace of a lie every time Veronica makes it known to Betty, and it just- it boggles her mind.

But Betty can’t find it in her to lie or dodge the question, not when Veronica has been unfailingly upfront and honest about her feelings about this, about _them._

Taking a deep breath, Betty carefully rolls Veronica onto her back and hovers above her, bracing her hands against the wooden floor. Veronica smiles, soft and reassuring as she runs her thumb over Betty’s cheek. Raven hair curtains part of her face and Betty gently brushes it aside, looking straight into Veronica’s eyes.

“When I…” Betty swallows, fingers trembling slightly. Veronica reaches for her hand and locks their fingers together, grounding Betty and making the next words fall more easily from Betty’s lips. “When I think about how your life might have been before we met, it felt like you were somewhere far away. Somewhere I couldn’t catch up or measure up to, no matter how hard I tried.”

Sadness then begins to shadow Veronica’s eyes, and Betty silently curses herself and shakes her head vigorously.

She runs a hand through her hair, the other one still holding Veronica’s. “But it’s not- it’s not your fault. It never was. It’s just- the way I was then, it was so easy to be insecure. But that was before. And now…” She brings Veronica’s hand to her lips and kisses her palm. “I’ve never been surer of anything, of _anyone._ And I just-“ she breathes out, pulling Veronica into her arms. “You have _no_ idea how much I want to be selfish with you, too.”

_No idea how much I love you._

Veronica flashes her a watery smile, and Betty hugs her tighter, unwilling to let her go. “I know…” she whispers, dropping a kiss against Betty’s shoulder. “And I want you to be selfish with me, too.” She tucks a strand of hair behind Betty’s ear, wrapping her legs around her waist. “I want you to show it. I want you to show me,” she finishes, kissing the hollow of Betty’s throat.

Nodding slowly, Betty runs her fingertips up Veronica’s thighs, heart stuttering not because of the thunder, but because of the love and trust that runs deep in Veronica’s eyes.

Love and trust for and in _her._

So she loves Veronica, loves and loves and _loves_ her until the fire crackling in the background is nothing more than a distant echo, until the storm is forgotten and the sound of the rain has faded away into the night.

Until Veronica cradles her face and lovingly whispers that none of the lights in New York could compare to the spark in her eyes.

Until _Veronica_ becomes the waves crashing into her and the sun dipping over the horizon - though far more beautiful and calming and ever-familiar, and the love and laughter in her eyes a sight Betty wants to keep falling into.

To forever get lost in Veronica, to forever be close to her.


End file.
